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SOMETHING NEW; 



THE SECOND "PASTOR'S TRIBUTE/ 






BY T 



9 



Christmas mtir* 



philadblphia: 
JOHN BEID, PRINTE 
1845, 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1844, 
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the 
Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 



PREFACE. 



The first thought was, to entitle these 
Fragraents — Old and New • because old to 
the author, though new to others. But, 
old things, generally, and in literature 
especially, are so little valued ; and Some- 
thing New is so much desired, that the 
latter title was concluded upon as the 
better. 

There is enough in the budget from 
which these have been drawn, for many 
such offerings ; but it is hoped there will 
be no need for more. 

T, H. S. 

Decembei: 23, 1844, 



SNOW. 



FIRST day:— EVENING. 



It always was a pleasant thing with me 

To watch the falling snow. And while I live. 

The things that please me shall inspire my song. 

Th' innumerable specks come trembling down. 
And now the perfect and increasing flakes. 
See, how the flutfring whiteness shuts the scene 1 
The distant hills are lost; the nearer fade ; 
And now the nearest by the crowding spots 
Are veiled from vision ; and the rapid tide 
Of the close river is but heard to flow, 
Rushing in foam among its stones and rocks. 

I wonder not that from the earliest time. 
Fancy hath found her fond similitude 
Of all that's fair and innocent, in snow- 
Haply the bard who saw it first decend. 
At once forgot the lily of the vale ; 
And all the stainless blossoms of the spring; 
And ocean's clearest pearls ; and spotless down, 
Soft on the cygnet's fountain-rippled breast;— 



And sung that beauty's brow was smooth and white, 
And virgin virtue pure as falling snow. 
What could be whiter 7 Yet e'en here we see 
The force of contrast. 'Tween the trunks opaque 
Of yon old trees and this translucent pane, 
The intervening flakes the rest excel. 
They look as clean— if such may be compared— 
Clean as an unworn robe prepared in heaven 
For happy saint, just entering from the earth. 

But hast thou e'er indulged the musing eye 

With upward gazing at the fleecy shower? 

Look o'er the tree- tops; dazzlingly it comes 

Bewildering the unaccustomed sight. 

But look again. No dusky objects there 

Enhance the whiteness, but the purest flake 

That droppeth from the bosom of the clourf 

Wears a dun tinge in that transparent air. 

And thus a man, among surrounding shades, 

May seem and be superior to his kind. 

Who yet if lifted to the holy sky 

Would only sulky that refined abode. 

Again look up. The sources of the snow 

No eye can reach. The crossing particles 

Distract the sight and bring the zenith low. 

Thus Providence is hidden by his gifts. 

Wide o'er the world his favors fall profuse; 

But none that lift the grateful glance may see 

The hand that scatters such exuberant good. 

But here is more the spirit may admire. 

Who can compute the multitude immense ? 

Alasl vain man! how weak thy summon'd thought ^ 

Thy whole attention centred on a point! 



How different God ! I wonder at his mind! 

This many-wavering tlirong, that might perplex 

The promptest angel in the heavens to count, — 

Distinctly floateih to the All-seeing Eye, 

As if a single solitary flake 

Lapsed in lone beauiy from th' o'ershadowing cloud. 

Thus, from his inaccessible high throne, 

Girt with eternal and excessive light— 

His boundless vision leisurely surveys 

The circling universe of shining orbs 

— In number far exceeding all the host 

Now dropping earthward, even though they spread 

The hills and dales of half the continent— 

And notes each insect basking in the beams 

That warm the smallest and most distant world j 

And lingers on the man whose heart is pure, 

With constant love supplying all his need, 

And thought to crown him soon with endless joy. 

Still falls the snow, as evening closes in. 

I've look'd for such a storm since first I rose; 

For mists were gath'ring at the break of day. 

And all the morn alternate light and shade 

In quick succession glided on the wind; 

Dark'ning and bright'ning hill, and dale, and str rem. 

By noon the air was hush'd ; the vapors form'd 

One boundless mass, obscuring all the sky. 

Quiet, and gray, and motionless, it hung ; 

Without an azure spot through which the sun 

Could flash upon the waters, or adorn 

The mountain's brow with sudden golden crown. 

A few hours since, I stood on yonder height 

And thence a vast and varied landscape saw— 



Oh! how unlike the scene the morn will show! 
I traced the wide horizon— all around 
It seemed to rest ujton a range of hills ; 
E'eii where declining slopes the valley sought, 
More distant summits swelling rose between. 
Where'er I turn'd, the forests, that were late 
Gay as the rainbow with their autumn hues, 
Tower'd on the uplands, barren, b'eak, and bare; 
And all the lower mounds and fields were brown 
With wither'd grass, and strewn with faded leaves. 
I look'd upon the homestead— how the heart 
Leaps at the sound of home !— the tell-tale smoke 
No slowly- whirling column rear'd; but roH'd 
Its light blue curls along the slanting roof, 
Spotted wiih moss and dark with many years, 
And floated thence in filmy mist away. 
The dog was at the door ; beside the gate, 
The patient cattle waited for their food; 
And in the field, with high and tossing head, 
The wilding horses snufTd the moist'ning air. 
Then spurn'd the frozen ground with iron hoof 
Swift as the flash and thundering as they ran. 
Nor could I but regard a half-starved crow. 
That clnng unto a solitary stalk 
Shelling an o'erlook'd nubbin greedily. 
Below me rush'd the river that I love — 
That soothes with rippling moan my summer noon. 
That laves my limbs and bears my bonny boat ; 
And rings in winter with my sounding dumpd. 
The few old trees around me scarce retain'd 
One ling'ring leaf; so often robb'd of all, 
They gave their honors to the first rude blast; 



But here and there a sapling vainly held 

Its shreds of gold and crimson.— Thus fond youth 

Clings to its cherish'd hopes, while wiser age. 

By disappointment taught from early years. 

Expects the storm, and meets it with a smile. 

Beside me open'd yon recluse ravine, 

Down which a lonely tributary stream 

Serenely glides at tinws, then, shouting wild, 

In crystal cascades leaps from rock to rock ', 

Till, winding round the bilPs foot, glad it sees 

The mother tide and bounds into her arms. 

In that still glen, the foliage of the woods 

Blown by the winds had gather'd into heaps 

Along the shelvy banks; but frequent teavea 

Wooed by some vagrant breeze, forsook their mates. 

And, curl'd in many a fairy form, away 

Launch'd on the stream and whirl'd into the depths. 

There, while I look'd around with curious glance, 

I spied some little wild-flowers, peering up,. 

And leaning on the bosom of decay ; 

Like orphans sleeping on a, mother's grave. 

Sweet sky-bluH relics ! how they won my love f 

Oh ! might the winter spare them ! but, alas ! 

Like the last earthly hopes cf dying men. 

E'en they mu?t perish. Ere the morrow's dawn 

The yet-descending snow shall all entomb. 

Uut that which pleased me most while there I stood, 

Was musing on the low and murky clouds. 

And sending fancy on a mission up, 

To see the sunshine of the world above. 

The eagle than was envied for his wings. 

But yet I seem'd myself to soar aloft 

And, passing swiAly through the chil jag gloon^ 



10 



I saw the open firmament expand 

Lofty and wide, while in its midst the sun 

Lavish'd the fulness of his blazing beams, 

With warmth and brightness filling all the sky; 

And the whole mass of vapors shone be!ow, 

A boundless waveless sea of molten gold. 

But oh! how dark and cheerless seem'd the earth 

When ftincy's vision fled, and on that cold 

And barren peak, with folded arms I stood ; 

O'erhang and girt with universal shade. 

It seem'd as if the visionary light 

Had glared so strongly on my glowing mind, 

That all beside was veil'd in twilight dim. 

Thus when the cares of life, like winter clouds, 

Cast iheir dull shadows o'er my pilgrim path, 

My fainting soul I cheer with hopes of heaven. 

Above the gloom— triumphant faith exclaims— 

Above the gloom a radiant scene extends. 

There countless saints their harps and voices wake. 

And cherubim and seraphim unite 

Their sweet and sounding harmony; and wide 

The unveird glory of the Godhead shines. 

Soon shall the spirit's pinions be released. 

And. high the gloom surmounting, gently fold 

Their sparkling plumage mid tiie sons oflight. 

Then, waking from my trance, I wound along 

The steep descent, and soon reposed at home. 

Now to the field the jocund boys repair 
To drive the horses to their log retreat. 
Snorting and rearing, suddenly they start, 
Ru&h up the lane and romp around the door. 
Soon halter'd in their stalls, they still evince 



u 



Their frolic humor, biting o'er the rails 
With headi3 awry; oft cow'ring at the sound 
Of threat'ning voice— or unexpected blow. 
Then to the barn the bustling tenders haste, 
And pressing in the box the bearded sheaf 
Fast falls the straw before the keen-edg'd knife- 
With this in basket piled and tub of bian, 
And bucket dripping from the gushing fount. 
Again they seek the stable, there to mix 
The long-expected meal ; the turning steeds. 
With backward glances, eye the stooping swain. 
Prick up their ears, and, neighing, seem to talk. 
Each soon receives his share ; and while they feed 
The careful boys unbind some wheaten sheaves. 
Arranging each a bed, and then with wisps 
Brush from their backs the melting snows away. 
While thus the stable thrives, in neighboring shed 
The cows are shelter'd by the buxom girls. 
They, while the meek-faced creatures chew their food. 
Sprinkled with salt ; solicit with cold hands 
From swelling udders, stores of richest milk; 
And then, with aprons thrown upon their heads, 
All deftly bear the full and brimming pails, 
And thrill the air with shrill and gladsome songs. 

The night is black— but home is bright and warm. 
The wide old fire-place heap'd with logs and brush, 
Crackles and flames; and ceiling, walls, and floor 
Glare with the ruddy light, and every face 
Glows with the heat: the candle, dimly pale, 
Resigns its honors to the rosy fire. 
The busy housewife now, on spotless cloth, 
Arrays the wholesome supper, clean and warm, 



12 



And calls her charge. They gladly circle round, 

Wait the due blessing solemnly invoked, 

And then regale upon the full repast. 

Hot lack they converse ; chief the ardent boys 

Talk of their bending snares and w^ell-set traps, 

Anticipating for their morning prey, 

The strangled rabbit and imprison'd fox. 

The girls are more solicitous to learn 

If the rude jumpers are in good repair, 

And win the promise of a ride at night. 

To where the tuneful master once a-week. 

Strikes his steel key and leads the shrill-toned choir. 

The parents look and listen ; pleased to mark 

Their young ones' faces kindling with delight. 

Nor interpose a word to check their glee. 

A diff'rent scene the far off city shows. 
My fancy paints it as I oft have seen, 
When, wrapp'd about with comfortable cloak. 
My folded arms uplifting it in front. 
And with my hat drawn down upon my brows, 
I've slowly paced along to watch the crowd. 
The vision opens. There the street extends — 
Liong, straight, and narrowing to a distant point. 
Traced by the footway lamps ; here, wide apart, 
But there, in gloom remote, on either side 
Contiguous shining, like a line of stars. 
High on the post beside me burns a flame 
That through its glass enclosure casts a light 
Brilliant and far; in which the hurried beau 
Lifts watch— notes hour — and hastens on his way. 
The houses brighten in the cheerful rays ; 



13 



Above the doors, the golden-lettered signs 
Reveal their names ; but, o'er the shadowy eave, 
The sight recoils from darkness absolute. 
Thick falls the downy shower ; in shade unseen, 
But lit with crystal sparklings in the beams. 
The passing crowds with spread umbrellas haste 
Along the whitening walks; the low stoop lower. 
The tall uplift their silks and let them by, 
And equals, jostling, mutter as they pass. 
No linsey-woolsey round-a-bout appears, 
Nor homespun gown, yarn hose, and leather shoes. 
But purple camblet, warm with costly fur. 
And soft with facing velvet, and adorn'd 
With many a silken ornament— enfolds 
The portly man ; and, leaning on his arm, 
The tender fair, o'ertaken by the storm. 
Close mantled in pelsse and doubled shawl. 
Trips with light feet, as if on May-buds treadiug, 
In cotton stockings and prunella shoes. 
Death wonders at her venturing, but smiles 
To think such beauty soon will be his own. 
The shop-boys now— the welcome hour arrived, 
Their windows barr'd, doors locked, and fire extinct- 
Haste to their evening pleasures ; some in books 
Enjoy a treasure richer far than gold, — 
While others prim their dress and roam abroad. 
Intent alone on revelry and mirth. 
But still the druggist's well-illumin'd bulks 
Their many-colored lucid globes display; 
And, on the level surface of the snow. 
The strong reflections spread their rainbow tints. 
The auctioneer now mounts his nightly stand ; 
The crowds attend; the bargains soon attract 



Their eager eyes, and while the crier darts 
His rapid glance around, and rattles out 
Incessant puffs of what his hand may hold- 
No matter what— the quick-caught offers swell ; 
And haply some poor plough-boy ling'ring there, 
Fresh from the fields and witless of the trade, 
Nodding his foolish head, his lonely bid 
Himself enhances, wondering when the man 
Will get enough, and let the hammer fall. 
The theatre— despite the storm— is full ; 
And there,— if one may say who never saw- 
Tears steal adown the cheeks or laughs resound 
At spoken fiction, often read at home. 
With face as grave as if it never smiled, 
Or eyes as dry as if they ne'er were wet. 
On move the hours. The streets are quiet now 
Save where the gather'd hack-men wait the crowd 
About to leave the scenery of spring 
For winter's cold and dreariness— there, loud 
The merry wretches crack their whips— and jokes. 

Abruptly I return ; for fancy brings 

So many pictures to my inward sight. 

That scarce a volume would contain the sketch 

Of all their hues and images. I wake 

To the still gloom surrounding my repose. 

How silently it falls— the feathery snow ! 
Not so the rain. Oh ! many a wakeful hour 
I've listen'd gladly to the water-drops 
At midnight pattering on the humble roof; 
And it has seem'd— a simple dreamy thought— 
As if they tried t' amuse my drowsy ear 



15 



With tittle-tattle stories of the clouds. 
But not the slightest touch is audible 
Of soft-alighting snow. Of all the flakes 
That drop upon the forest or the rock 
Or settle on the roof, not one is heard. 
Thus ev'ry thing has manner. Men there are 
Who, keep them quiet, never would fulfil 
Their destin'd mission— born to make a noise; 
While others in the bustling world grow sad, 
Confused and heartless; but, if left to form 
And execute their plans in quietude, 
The world shall wonder at the great result 
As o'er deep snows that gently fell at night. 
Here as I rest I cheerfully contrast 
My warmih and shelter with the scene without. 
And thus, perhaps, the covert fox may muse. 
And burrow'd rabbit, and the squirrel gray 
In hollow trunk, with stores of treasured nuts. 
But nobler thoughts shall now exalt the song 
That yields its music at the evening's close. 

Here then I tune my harp. Awake, my muse! 
And sing the bliss of contrast stronger far. 
I never saw the deep ; but fancy oft 
Has thought how happy would that sailor be, 
To whom some power assurance should aflbrd, 
That, let his prow be pointed where it might. 
His trusted life should last. Oh ! he could climb 
The yielding shrouds and swing along the yards,. 
And in the uproar of the tempest chant, 
As if a free and disembodied sprite. 
His victor song among the scudding clouds. 
The seas would yawn in vain ; his fearless eye 



15 



Would glance from gulf to gulf, from foam to foam,. 
And joy to catch the lighfning's sudden ffash; 
While high his heart would leap within to hear 
The rolling thunder and the howling gale. 
The groan of rocking masts would soothe his ear, 
The bending of the spar would lull his soul; 
And then, reviving 'neath the o'erbreaking wave. 
He'd mount again with shouts and cleave the storm. 
But peace and danger walk not hand in hand. 
Vain were the wish for voyage free of risk, — 
Vain were the prayer to be assured of life. 

Yet know we not that moral dangers throng 

The path of life ? More terrible by far 

Than thousand tempests on the billowy sea ? 

But mark the Christian. He, confirmed in faith. 

Strong in the promise of Omnipotence, 

Wi;h all the world soliciting to sin, 

And Satan tempting with an angel's voice. 

And yearning heart inclining to their guile, 

Himself subdues and smiles at outward foes. 

Sunshine and storm a'ike are false to him; 

But, God-protected, still he walks in peace. 

Wea;th— deckM with golden diamond-studded crown. 

And purple robe and silver zone, emboss'd 

With radiant gems— invites him near bis throne ; 

Extends his aM-attractive sceptre, calls, 

And caUs again, entreats— but still in vain. 

Young Pleasure in her arched gateway stands, 

In loose array and garlanded with flowers;— - 

O beauty rare ! O most enchanting grace ! 

She points the pilgrim to her Eden walks; 

Her soft and virgin tones command the trees,. 



17 



To wave him welcome to their pleasant shades ;— 

The varied bloom to glow with fresher hues, 

And fill with sweeter fragrance all the air; 

And every breeze to waft the mingling songs 

Of mockingbird, and thrush, and cooing dove; — 

And fountain's flowing melody— and moan 

Of many a distant murmuring water-fall. 

But, fair enchantress ! all thy lures are vain i 

Thy gentle joys the lone one will not heed. 

Then, from the topmost clifF, a thrilling blast 

Rings through the echoing caves and wakes the vale. 

The meek disciple of the Son of Man 

Looks and beholds the queenly form of Fame ! 

There shines her temple, and around it grow 

The greenest laurels, and her chosen few 

Breathe on the height a spiritual air, 

And seem to glow with immortality. 

One hand extends a fresh new-woven wreath, 

The other shows her steep ascending path. 

If aught alluring could seduce his soul 

'Twould be the hope of such a fellowship. 

But in his heart a kind low-breathing voice 

Whispers thy name, O Heaven ! and on he moves 

Nor could a thousand trumps his steps delay. 

Far other foes then urge their fierce assaults. 

Foul Unbelief the patient saint attends, 

With phrase sophistical and mocking wit 

To shake or shame his unsuspecting faith. 

Then Scorn salutes him with her hissing sneer— 

And pours from curling lips the hot reproach. 

While foaming Bigotry, a fire eyed fiend, 

■Steps from her neighboring path with words of hate. 

And waves with threats her red and dripping scourge. 



18 



But still, with heart at ease and brow serene, 

Heir of the Lord ! he sings aud journeys on. 

Then still severer trials test his soul; — 

Pale Want conducts him through a desert waste ;- 

Disease outlays him on the burning sand ; 

And Life and Death awa>it the doubtful end;— 

But trusting still he murmurs not nor fears. 

All hail— thou pare and strong and happy man! 

Beset with foes, by sad afflictions tried, — 

Child of the promise ! Faithful one ? alJ hail! 

Of a:i earth's dangers, none can equal thine. 

The sea-toss'd mariner must yield to thee; 

And he that stands anwng the sfain and hears 

The whistling balls of battle, must confess 

His perils are but sport compared to thine. 

One step against the Spirit's guiding voice — 

One straying step might lead thee far from God, 

And not thy body only faint and die. 

But— all immortal— sink thy ransom'd soul— 

The fiends thy mates, and hell thy endless home. 

Thou knowest and yet thou smiiest — blessed one! 

The name of Jesus ever on thy lips. 

The love of Jesas ever in thy heart. 

To thee the thought of death no sorrow biings— 

Hell hath no hoirors, fiends, no power to harm. 

Thy hope hath fann'd the fragrant airs of heaven ; 

E'en now she shines upon its outmost hill, 

As brilliant as an angel, and exults 

To turn the crown of glory in her hand, 

Which faith, beholding, criea— laid up for roe I 



MAN. 



Now— panting spirit F— now ihy bold desire 
So long— so fondly cherish'd— finds an hour 
To seek its lofty object I 

Morn and eve, 
Noonday and midnight, year succeeding year, 
Imagination— like a prison'd bird. 
Born in its prison, one whose flutl'ring wings 
Were ne'er full spiead, but long to wave in heaven- 
Has pruned her pinions for a daring flight. 
And Passion— as the mate of that caged bird 
Thrills when she hears her partner's melody- 
Has heard and burn'd with rapture while she sung 
Her flight, as if already on the wing ! 
The hour has come \ The pru ned pTume is free f 
To hill and vale— to brook and ocean wide — 
From pole to pole— Imagination flies; 
And far from earth among the shining orbs 
Like golden isles that throng the sea of space— 
And downward, where the wilderness of gloom 
Surrounds the darkling lake of quenchless fire— 
And upward where the Eternal's throne is seen 
Casting its radiance o'er the towers of heaven— 



And higher Btill, where twinkling light of star, 
Pale beam of moon, or sun's in tenser ray, 
Or flick'ring glare of hell, or far-seen blaze 
Of heavenly glory never hath appeared; 
But where effulgence uncreated shrines 
The Form of God!— Effulgence that hath yet 
Ne'er known a shade, nor been approach'd by else 
Than holy thought, adoring as it gazed! 
E'«n there, with wings dlspread and motionless 
In God's dread solitude she floats in awe. 
And ever as she flies— or round the earth, 
Or midst the distant spheres, or by the gates 
Of hell or heaven, or in the light that shrines 
The form of God— still Passion— as its mate 
Follows with ardent wing the flying bird- 
Length- breadth— depth— height, with equal speed 

explores. 
Yet wherefore as the birds? Their aim so high, 
Their end so great, they rather angels seem, 
Cherub and seraph gath'ring gems of truth 
From all the worlds to deck their diadems ! 
Nay— truth more precious far than rarest gems 
And brightest crowns that e'en archangels wear! 

" Light in thy light," my new-born vision sees, 
Love for thy love my new-born heart returns. 
And now. Creator of the universe ! 
Infinite Spirit! who, ere aught was made. 
Delighted in the countless images 
Of good and beauty, moving in Thy mind;— 
Whose wisdom plann'd the frame of all that is. 
Whose voice of power embodied all the plan. 
And whose continual energy sustains 



St 



Matter, and life, and spirit, hour by hour; 

To Thee, with joy ineffable I call. 

To Thee, my Father! Not to olden muse, 

Of heathen fame, nor mystic modern sprite, 

My truth-taught soul avows its warm desire; 

But in Thy hearing ear— Ancient of days! 

Its breathings enter. Humble as a child. 

Whose heart the glow of pride and cheek its flush. 

Have never known; yet as an angel bold, — 

An angel that hath never breathed a prayer 

That was denied a moment— thus would I, 

Humbly and boldly claim Thy constant aid ! 

Father ! inspire Thy child 1 my mind illume 

With truth as bright as sunbeams that have known 

Nor cloud— nor shade— to cross their way to earth ;— 

With truth as vital to the immortal soul 

As sunlight to the world that basks and lives. 

My heart with strong attachment to the truth,— 

Stronger than that of avarice to gold. 

Or vanity to fame, or eye of youth 

To most enchanting beauty, ever bless, 

And grant me language flowing as the fount. 

Each thought and feeling imaging as well. 

As the smooth brook, the flowers upon its marge ; 

And still may words and thoughts, like meeting brooks. 

In one full stream uniting, onward lead 

Attention to eternity, as bears 

Its bark, the river to the wide— wide sea ! 

Joy to the world ! the harp! the gift of God ! 
Whose sacred strings, obedient to the touch 
Of skilful fingers, thrilling as they move, 
Ttielr many tones in mingled music wake ; 



23 



Of power to lull to languor strength enraged, 
O'ercome with melting sweetness,— and to nerve 
With iron hardness arms as soft as babe's—. 
And o'er the timid hearts of cowards glide, 
Like winds o'er smothered fires, and rouse a flame 
Of courage, many waters cannot whelm, — 
Nay more, whose chasten'd harmony may win 
Affection from the earth, as though she heard 
Soft from the regions whither tends her flight, 
The gentle voice of some kind messenger ;— 
Aye — holier purpose yet may well fulfil, 
When tenderly it seeks the bed of death, 
And o'er the heart-strings of the dying steals. 
Like fragrant airs from paradise, and prompts 
The parting soul to sigh a glad farewell 1 
Joy to the world 1 this precious gift of God 
Is rescued from the unhallow'd touch of sin, 
And gives unto a nations list'ning ear, 
The tones of truth;— in mellow cadence telling 
Of life and bliss immortal in the skies. 
Wooing the fainting soul to love her God ; 
The tones of truth,— in peals of thunder rolling, 
Starting the sinner from his dream of joy 
And calling to the worm that slept an hour 
Its agonizing gnawings to renew. 
And making fancy reel as though she heard 
Groans of the lost, and saw the fire of hell. 
And millions beck'ning to their fearful home '. 
Joy to the world! that, while the Spirit's voice 
In the still heart makes audible appeals ;— 
While Providence from earth and sea and sky, 
In blossom-lime and harvest— in dark storm 
And sunny calm— at morning, noon, and eve— 



MAN. SS 

By weal and wo— by health and wan disease- 
By life and death— the will of God declares;- 
While Revelation — faithful sentinel! 
He who hath watch'd our planet, from what time 
Immortals shouted, as it slowly came, 
Swelling and bright'ning, grand and beautiful, 
From gloom to glory— all His love repeats, 
With warning and entreaty pleading still ;— 
And while the Anointed Host unfurl at once 
Ten thousand purple banners, and uplift 
To countless thousands loud the rallying cry ; 
Joy to the world ! that while all these are out, — 
And the world can but hear— the holy harp 
In many a quiet interval obtains 
The open ear of leisure, and with charms 
That few may scorn, persuades the yielding heart 
To desecrate its idols, and entwine 
The tendrils of its love around the cross ! 

Man as he is, and as he may become ;— 

Hisknowledge— duty— conduct— destiny— 

His degradation and his dignity;— 

With all the good and evil agencies, 

Seen and unseen, with force, or slight, or strong. 

Soliciting his will:— these are my themes. 

And if the power but equal the desire, 

Truth, by the suasive power of song, shall win 

A conquest o'er the soul that fame may tell 

To many a holy circle in the skies; 

Who, while their hearts would shudder at the tale 

Of triumphs bought with blood, shall gladly hear, 

AJl leaning mutely on their harps of gold. 

Of contrite spirits turning to their God ! 



2i 



Mysterious thought ! who— ere old time may turn 

His record glass, can cross the universe! 

Stand on the central pinnacle of light, 

And mark the spheres that roll around the sun. 

Thou see'st no fairer in his whole domain, 

Than where upon its azure circle moves, 

Star-like, the distant dwelling-place of man I 

Now slow return, and view it as it swells 

In all its grand proportions, till it shows 

A golden waste of clouds, with open space, 

Through which the summits of its mountains rise. 

Ice-bound, and bright as silver, and dark vales 

Like gulfs extend, and ocean wide reflects 

The beams that fall and flash upon its waves r 

Draw nearer still, and as an eagle wild 

That, solitary, shone above the clouds, 

Stoop from the sunshine ever resting there, 

And come beneath their shadow ; fold thy plumes 

Beside the eagle's eyrie, where the peak, 

As if the spire of nature's temple, peers 

In sight of land and sea; and there behold, 

Around— below— above, the outstretch'd world. 

Lo ! where the boundless ocean far and wide, 

Spreads in the light of noon. Its motion here^, > 

Is scarcely visible, and all the roar 

Of surges dashing on the rocky base. 

Up from the deep abyss sounds faint and dutJ. 



Note: — This is, indeed, Something JVeto— to close a 
book without closing an article; but our room is limited, 
and here we must stop. Perhaps some other method 
will be adopted, of completing the matter. By the way, 
the poem, itself, is yet a fragment— though considera- 
bly larger than here. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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